A/N: There's a girl with a gift of flattery and a Machiavellian understanding of my ego that can basically get me to write whatever she wants. You have her to thank for this.
"Sugar."
...
"Whole grain corn flour."
...
"Wheat flour."
...
"Whole grain oat flour."
...
"Oat fiber."
…
"Soluble corn fiber."
…
"Partially hydrogenated vegetable oil."
"Are you going to read the whole box?" Matthew said as he placed the last dish on the rack and threw down the wash cloth.
She paused for a moment and diverted her attention from the cereal box to him. She held his gaze by the magnetism of her own. Then the smile, always the smile. She returned to the box.
"Coconut, soybean, cottonseed oils-"
"Alright that's enough of that." Matthew grabbed her wrist and pinned it down onto the counter on which she was sitting.
"Wouldn't you like to know what you're eating?" Mary said with a mischievous grin.
"Oh, I know what I'm eating," he whispered as he pressed himself against her.
Her breathing quickened. It did not go without notice. His hand travelled up her arm as he gently brushed his fingers across her cheek. He opened up his palm, beckoning her in. Like a soft pillow, she relaxed into his hand. She was waiting for it. He leaned in, little by little, in that way that he always did, taking just a half-step too long, suspended between desire and frustration, temptation and annoyance. And just at the last moment, always at the last moment, when that tingling sparked into rage, he kissed her lips, melting her all over again.
He nibbled on her lower lip, a gentle rose petal being touched by summer rain. It really was raining outside. She could hear the light tapping of raindrops on the window. If not much else. Her senses were a little preoccupied at the moment.
The kisses continued and slowly began to drift downward, first to her chin, then down the neck, past her collar bone. She was worried for a moment that the shirt would stop him but his hands swiftly undid the buttons, leaving his mouth undeterred. He was quite fast at it. But of course he would be, it was his shirt after all.
"You seem rather proud of yourself…" Mary said languidly as she leaned her head back against the glass, the overcast light of the rainy morning piercing her eyelids. She was flying.
"What makes you say that?" Matthew said right before her belly button.
"You don't ask permission?" Mary asked.
"Can I stick my tongue up your-"
"Okay, okay stop," Mary giggled as she ran her fingers through his coarse blonde hair. "I can't stand vulgarity."
"As you wish," Matthew mumbled against her skin.
"Oh, you're so loving this." Mary's grip tightened on his hair.
"Oh, I'm the one that's loving this," Matthew grinned as he lowered himself down between her legs.
"Yes, you! You're loving this," Mary protested. "You think you've conquered me."
"Why, I've never thought anything of the sort," he said, affecting an overly-offended voice.
He pulled aside her panties and gently blew upon her skin. She rattled at the touch of his breath. Her bare legs clamping down on his shoulders as an autonomic response. He slowly laid his tongue upon her and buried his nose into her fuzz. She convulsed with every lick. His eyes darted up. He stared at her, passed the writhing plains of her toned stomach, a product of her draconian diet and her addiction to exercise, passed the valley of breasts, creamy and perfect, to her euphoric expression, backlit and obscured by the all-consuming light of the grey skies behind her.
"Sea monster or Perseus?" He whisper into her pussy.
"I knew you remembered,"she said as she opened her eyes slightly and looked down at him.
"Sea monster or Perseus?" He asked again.
"What's the difference?" She asked as she ran her fingers through his hair and traced the length of his spine with her feet.
"Well Perseus, is a prince… and a gentleman," he said breathily, waves of his hot and moist exhalant colliding against her sensitivity. "And he does this…"
Like a brush, he dipped his tongue into her paint and lathered. Slow and deliberate. Palettes don't shake though. He drew little circles and moved to side to side, never leaving her pleasure unattended for long. He dipped his tongue inside of her, for his own pleasure, because he liked her taste and drank her like flowing fountain. He pursed his mouth, in she in response, a meeting of opposite lips, a kiss of subservience and gentlemanly largess.
He returned to her clitoris, with relentless lapping and strategic sucking. Her only response, to tug on his hair, pulling him away to allow herself to breath. He would let her, knowing full well what treason she had committed against herself. She would regret this. When she did, she pushed him back into her, locking her legs in a figure-four around his neck.
Her fingers, felt the ridges on his forehead, the blood vessels that emerged. The furrowed brow of his Mycenaean effort. Her toes curled, digging into his back, hard but smooth, with a little bit of give, like wood. Yes, he was definitely made out of wood. Like a solid mahogany or ash. A craftsman's bench or a classic electric guitar. Strong but capable of such beauty.
Placing his fingers on the counter, he pushed up, she still wrapped around his head. He carried her to the kitchen table, her hand on her butt, gripping tightly, as she grinded into his face. Fighting him and enjoying him all at once.
When he reached the dining room table, he laid her down flat. As winced as the cold of the glass traveled through her skin. He wrapped his hand around the outside of her thighs, hooking his fingers near her knees, he pried her open and freed himself. He leaned forward and kissed her. She kissed him back passionately, tasting her own sex, evidence of his gentlemanly character.
"Now show me the sea monster," Mary whispered as they broke their kiss.
"As you wish," Matthew replied as he undid his belt with one hand.
Matthew pushed his pants down, freeing himself from his confinement. Mary reached down and placed her hand on his cock, solid and hot to the touch. It pulsed rhythmically in her hand, a bomb, that she would inevitably detonate. But for now, a sword attached to a skilled swordsman. He gripped her panties tightly, wrapping them around his white knuckles before ripping them. He would buy her new ones, like he always did. They were progressively getting smaller with every new pair, covering less and less, serving no function but to incite his animalistic desires. In the summers when it was hot, she like to go bare leg and if she didn't wear shorts, he would take that as an invitation. Most of the time, it was. He placed himself on the edge the table, her lips conforming around his head. They trembled in unison. He thrusted deeply into her, her scream cut short halfway through as her breath outran her voice.
He was not gentle.
He placed one hand on her hip while the other clamped onto her shoulder. His grip tightened and his arms flexed. He was hanging on for a reason. He pulled in, impaling her. Her head shot back as her back arched off of the glass surface. She grimaced in sweet agony, yet again her scream being robbed of breath. He rocked faster, vibrating the glass table. Her hands played with her nipples as her legs wrapped around him tightly, a desperate attempt at stability. He would not have it.
She shook and bucked and and clawed, wildly and instinctively. This was the loss of control. This was Andromeda chained to the rock. This was Cetus, hungry. She moaned and screamed. Screamed for God, screamed that he was a god, screamed for him to fuck her harder, he gladly obliged. Oh why did she do that?
Matthew wrapped his arm around her arched back and sat her up, letting gravity further their union. His hands hooked onto her thighs, her butt bouncing off of the glass table. She bit her lip and furrowed her brow. He would commit that expression to his eternal memory. She wrapped placed her arms on his shoulders and held on. What else could she do? She moaned through her lips, futilely trying to keep quiet. Matthew neared her and kissed her, stealing her bottom lip away and opening her mouth, letting her siren song of lust and euphoria escape. For a moment he went deaf from the loudness. And in that moment, through the haze of her vision and the blur of the rhythmic up and down, she could see him smile.
And just as she felt that wonderful blanket of pleasure come over her. She bounced off of the table surface a little too hard, tipping the glass off of its metal frame and causing it to slide, crashing into the hardwood floor and shattering in a million little pieces.
Shocked, Mary looked down, as she hung by his arms above the sea of glass that she had newly created. She looked to Matthew, he wore an expression of anger and frustration.
"Oh my god, Matthew, I'm so sorry!" Mary tried to explain in a panic.
She looked down at his feet. He had a few cuts on his legs that were starting to bleed.
"Are you okay, I'm so sorry!" Mary tried to say again.
His expression remained unchanged.
"You were about to cum weren't you?" Matthew asked in a forced calm voice.
"What?" Mary asked with an expression of utter confusion.
He growled fiercely and slapped her butt. She hung onto him precariously as he walked over to the couch and plopped her down onto it. He grabbed her by the hips and turned her around. He placed his hand onto her sweaty back and pulled away the white dress shirt that still dangled on her arms. He positioned her butt in the air. She arched her back and bit down on couch fabric, ready to receive him. He entered her slowly and deliberately, pushing passed the depth that he had before.
He hit like a freight train, her legs rattling and kicking uncontrollably underneath him. He didn't care, they could do nothing to stop the primordial fury of his hips. Her hips pushed back against him, in a desperate attempt to battle him. But the collision of their two opposing forces only amplified her delicious torment. He grabbed her long dark hair and pulled back, threading his fingers through the curls and latching onto them. Hundreds of dollars at the salon, undone by one Herculean fist. What else was it for really? To seduce him and for him to use as reins. Later, she would have to go out with the signs of his viciousness, the tossed hair and the limp, on clear display as she went to pick up a real breakfast, not the Fruit Loops he had sitting in his cupboard, and what he had done to her would be evident to every passerby. He pulled her up with that one hand on her natural harness until she was upright and against him, her moans turning into throaty growls, her hands grabbing his sides. To think, this was sweet, beautiful Matthew, what monsters lay deep within his soul. Only for her torment.
"Tell me you want it," he commanded.
"I want it…" she whispered.
"Tell me you want it bad."
"I want it so bad," she said louder.
"You want what?"
"I want you…"
"Yes?"
"I want you to…"
"Go on."
"I want you to fuck me until I cum!" she groaned.
He pushed her down onto the couch, her face buried into a cushion.
"As you wish."
She could only sense fragments. His hands tightly squeezing her butt. His hips like pistons, her screams deliberately turned into the cushion to muffle the sound as much as possible. She had broken enough glass for one day. Her legs told the whole story, the kicking grew more and more violent until finally they straightened out and spasms continuously for several moments before releasing the tension and falling lifelessly off of the couch.
She drifted in and out of consciousness, her hair draped over her face, obscuring her vision. She had to stay awake, she couldn't let the sea monster win. She mustered enough strength to sit up and turn her body around. She hooked herself onto him, dragging her face passed his glistening abs and found him still stiff and throbbing.
"What are you doing?" Matthew asked panting and delirious.
"I have to eat too."
She took him into her mouth. Dutifully, like the little whore that he had turned her into this morning. She sucked and licked with great enthusiasm. She thought about what she was doing, she turned her head slightly to look at her reflection in the TV. Her head bobbing up and down, her hands stroking him in an action tantamount to worship. She did indeed worship him. And the grip of her slender fingers, the tightness of her palms, the suction of her mouth, and the wanton moans as he hit the back of her throat, this was prayer. He had truly conquered her. She thought about their first meeting, how lowly she thought he was. This annoying little public defender, weaseling his way into her family's good graces. He wished he could have a girl like her. She dangled men in front of him just to torture him. Showing him what she could have at the snap of her fingers. How he could never compete. He didn't have a chance with her. Now look at her, sweaty and delirious with a mouthful of his cock, ready, eager, desperate to receive him. He was magnanimous. He granted her that wish. She felt him throb in her hands. A moment later, her mouth filling up with his seed, a creamy liquid, the nectar of a god. Okay, he can be both Perseus and the sea monster if he wished. She surrendered. She dutifully swallowed him and cleaned him up with her tongue, like she had learned that Halloween night when he fucked her in that french maid outfit. When she was done, she kissed the head one last time before allowing it to shrink and rest.
She looked down towards her feet, Matthew stared back at her, both with dreamy expressions, their animal natures subsiding as their human selves returned, horrified, ashamed, and bemused at what they had just done. She blew him a lazy air kiss. He mouthed I love you back at her.
"Sorry about the table," Mary said as she covered her face with her hair.
"It was totally worth it."
A/N: I probably should've put a smut warning on this but fuck it, it's already rated M.
